Secret Losses
by Tiva4evaxxx
Summary: “Goddamnit, you’re not the only one with losses Jane, sure they may not be as big or tragic, but you’re not the only one who carries them.” Lisbon has secrets. What happened to her that she's so desperate to hide? And will Jane find out? Heavy Jisbon!


**Hey guys! I seem to be in love with writing Mentalist fics at the moment! This is quite possibly my favorite! It's very Jisbon-y. :-) With some angst thrown in there. I really hope you enjoy it. This is a goodbye present to Hannah. All my ff friends are abandoning me to go on holiday. I may die during that time. :-( **

**Disclaimer: I own...... dun dun, dun.... some boxets. But not the Mentalist :-(**

Secret Losses

She was sick of it. Lisbon was sick of feeling this way; she was slowly falling, but falling all the same for that damn consultant. Patrick Jane. And she was sick of it, because she wasn't stopping herself, if she fought hard enough then yeah, maybe she could, but the point was that she didn't want too.

She was scared, no absolutely terrified that she could get hurt if there was a fraction of a chance she could even scratch the surface of the pain she'd felt last time then it wasn't worth the risk. But really, she decided he had already hurt her, unintentionally of course. But he had, by not possibly ever being able to love her the way she was growing to love him. And it broke her heart every time she thought about it. He would never be able to love her, he still loved his wife. Was it irrational, stupid, to be so jealous of a dead woman? She wondered. Because that's what she was. Jealous. It was pathetic.

But just the fact that he was six years later still wrapped up in his own tragedy, pain and guilt, it was too long. Surely he had to move on at some point? The rest of them had all lost things, and they'd had to move on. Why the hell should he be any different?

He wanted revenge, fair enough and they would catch Red John, one day they would get him.

She watched him, those blonde curls, and enticing blue eyes.

Life wasn't fair.

But Teresa Lisbon was one of the people who was unfortunate enough to have learnt that very early on in life. And life certainly hadn't changed her mind since.

That day had been strange, Lisbon had been… cold, very cold that day towards Jane. And that made Jane curious, and worried at the very least. It hurts when someone you care about - and he did care about her, gives you the cold shoulder for apparently no reason. He hadn't been annoying; he hadn't pulled any "immature" pranks. He really hadn't done anything. So what was it that she was thinking about that was the cause of her being practically silent all day?

Maybe it was the case. It had been pretty tough, a pregnant woman stabbed to death.

But normally she was bright, hopeful and full of life. But she going about with a sad haunted look constantly on her face. He hadn't seen even a glimpse of a smiled on her face in weeks. So he was worried about her, and as far as he saw it it was with good reason he chose to drop in on her that night, just to check she was ok.

He stood on her doorstep, which was relatively familiar, it wasn't his first time at Lisbon's apartment.

And knocked.

Once.

No answer.

Twice.

Still no answer.

Three times.

Finally her door opened, and behind it was a slightly irritable looking Lisbon. The look of irritation turned to one of shock as she realized who it was that was knocking on her door at ten thirty on a Friday evening.

"Jane, what do you want?"

"Nice to see you too Teresa."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"May I come in?" He asked quietly, politely.

She contemplated it for a few seconds, and then stepped aside, and gestured for him to come.

"Thank you." He said.

"What, no smiles, no jeering?" She thought as she willingly let him in her home.

He had been here before on several occasions, but only just inside, to wait for her to be ready or for her to grab a couple of things for a stakeout, or whatever. He'd never been where she'd actually lived.

"No psychoanalysis ok?" She asked, half heartedly.

"I'll try my best." He replied, amused.

They sat down, and she didn't bother to wait and be polite and offer a drink.

"What do you want Jane?" She asked bluntly.

"To know what's wrong." He replied, equally as blunt.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong I'm fine." She said, knowing it was useless to lie to him, but giving it a try anyway.

"Ok, so why are you lying to me?"

"People lie when they don't want other people to know what they're thinking Jane."

"Then why don't you want me to know what you're thinking?"

"Some things are personal."

"True."

"Everyone has secrets Jane, and you might be able to know when I'm lying but that doesn't mean you can tell what I'm lying about."

"So what is your secret Lisbon?"

"I told you Jane, some things are personal."

"That's not fair -"

"Life isn't fair."

"Why won't you tell me? Who would I tell?"

"You don't need to know." She said quietly.

"You don't need to know that I had a wife and daughter, you don't need to know they were murdered by a serial killer, you also don't need to know I had a mental breakdown, yet you still know all of that." He said, a hint of anger to his voice.

That made her snap, "Goddamnit, you're not the only one with losses Jane, sure they may not be as big or tragic, but you're not the only one who carries them." She yelled, trying to control the tears in her eyes that were threatening to betray her, and fall.

She sank back down into her couch, slumping, defeated.

"What have you lost Teresa?"

"Don't call me that." She said softly, "I am Special Agent Lisbon, the last time I was called Teresa I was a sixteen year old girl."

He nodded, going along with it. She didn't like being called her first name because it reminded her of being a child, of loosing her mother, and probably of feeling helpless.

"Ok, Lisbon, what happened to you?" he said, even softer than before.

"Where do I start?" She sighed,

"At the beginning." He coaxed.

"You know, that my mother was killed by a drunk driver. You also know that my father then turned to alcohol as a refuge, and neglected me and my brother. What you don't know, is that he was abusive." She said quietly.

Patrick subtly shifted closer to her on the couch, and placed a hand on her smaller, more delicate one. To his slight surprise she didn't remove it, she let herself have that small, but much needed human contact.

A tear escaped at the memory, and she closed her eyes, trying to minimize the number of tears that would inevitably fall.

"_I'm sorry daddy, I'm sorry!" The little girl cried._

"_You little bitch, you're not sorry!" A huge, older man roared._

"_I am daddy, I am." She squeaked, the small, petite girl could smell the alcohol on her precious daddy's breath._

"_You will be sorry!"_

"_I am daddy, I am!" She wept._

"_You know what happens to bad girls?"_

_She nodded her head, eyes wide and fearful, innocent "They get punished," she mumbled._

"_That's right! They get punished!"_

"_I really am sorry daddy I promise, I miss Mommy too. I'm sorry." She cried._

"_Who's fault is it that your Mother died?" He yelled._

"_Mine Daddy." The little girl said, long dark curls framing her tear stained face._

"_That's right. And what's your name?"_

"_Teresa."_

"_Teresa what?"_

"_Teresa Lisbon."_

"_And do you deserve to have such a nice name, Teresa, that your mother named you."_

"_No daddy."_

"_And why is that?"_

"_Because it's my fault that mommy died." She finished crying._

_And that's when the beating would begin._

And it was the same routine, the same hurtful, damaging words she was forced to repeat each night he came home drunk and needed someone to blame.

And that was why she got that haunted look.

"What did he do?" Jane asked anger in his eyes - he looked like he was trying not to hit something.

"He hit me." She said, "But that wasn't the worst, he told me, and he made me say it everyday… that my mothers' death was my fault. After a while, I just sort of began to believe it." She said, as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

This time Patrick took her hand. "It wasn't your fault, you were a little girl, it couldn't possibly have been your own fault."

"That's not it. Before I came to the CBI, I was engaged."

Jane, looked up sharply, a shocked look on his face, he quickly recovered but it was too late she'd seen the look.

"I was engaged, we were high school sweethearts, and were gonna get married when I was twenty five. He didn't live that long." She took a deep breath, and continued, "When I was twenty four, I had a daughter," She let the tears fall freely now. "Her name was Kayla Mae." She continued to cry, "She died 4 hours and 27 minutes after she was born." The tears turned into racking sobs, and Jane took her in his arms. Trying to calm her, stroking her cheek, wet from all the tears.

They stayed like that for a little while, Lisbon listening to his heartbeat, the sobs turned back into tears and she calmed down a little.

"My fiancée couldn't take it, exactly a month after Kayla died his body was found in our apartment. He slit his wrists."

She felt his arms around her get tighter.

"I threw away my life, everything that's gone wrong in it has been my fault. At least you have someone to blame." She said softly.

"Teresa, this was not your fault. You cannot blame yourself. None of it was you."

"You're wrong, and don't call me Teresa."

"Why? Really why?"

"My father, he would make me say my name, all of it, over and over again, "who's fault was Mommy's death?" he would say, I had to reply "Teresa Lisbon"" She trembled.

Hearing her say that broke his heart.

He was enraged that any one could do this to her, she was so strong. She was a survivor. Yet no one knew. She had built a completely new life for herself since her husband and daughter, that much was evident. She had run, and managed to hide. She was probably terrified, now that she had opened up to someone. To him. And he was so glad it had been him.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to call you Teresa, because he had no right to do that to you, and it was the bastard who was drunk and driving that is to blame for your mother's death. You, Teresa, are amazing and strong and that is your name."

She curled into him, and whispered, "Thank you."

Silently he said to himself, "You shouldn't be thanking me Teresa. If I hadn't been so damn wrapped up in myself, and selfish then maybe I'd have noticed you had such carefully hidden secrets, and carefully disguised pain. I'm so sorry darling." God if she'd actually heard him say that, she would have come up with a million counter arguments. And darling… he would be dead by now, he chuckled inside his head.

But her story, her sad, heartbreaking story, it stirred up emotions inside him. He got an overwhelming feeling to protect her from the world; she had already been through so much.

"Why are you letting me in?" He whispered, "I honestly didn't think you would tell me."

She turned her head, so their faces were little over an inch apart, he searched her facial expressions, "You're the psychic you tell me," she said softly.

"I'm not a psychic,"

"So you say."

He searched her stunningly beautiful face once more. He looked into her eyes; they held eye contact for a long time.

She saw, when he found the answer in her eyes. She saw the shock and incomprehension.

"No?"

"Yes," she said tearfully.

"I'm so sorry."

"For what, it's my own stupid fault?"

"For not realizing earlier. For not realizing myself…"

"Yeah, it's your fault that you didn't realize that I'm falling in love with you." She said, so quietly she could barely here him.

"Not just that, but for not realizing that I am falling as much as you are."

She looked confused, "What?"

"You heard me, i'm falling in love with you Teresa Lisbon."

She looked happy, for a second but then her face fell.

"What?"

"You're not falling in love with me," she said sadly, "You're still in love with your wife."

"No," he said, "I may have only just recognized it, but I'm not. Of course a part of me is always going to love my wife. Just like a part of you is always going to love your fiancée. We have to respect those parts. But I'm ready to start loving someone else, someone that's right. You."

"Are you sure?" She asked cautiously, tears shimmering in her eyes.

"Yes, but can we take it slow, I think that's something we both need."

She nodded, unable to believe what was happening.

"But, I think I can manage one kiss." Jane said, smiling down at her.

He slowly leant his head down to hers, and gently caressed her lips in his.

It only lasted a few seconds, but she was breathless when their lips parted.

"Ok, maybe a few more like that." He smiled.

She smiled back.

"And, Teresa, thank you."

"For what?" She asked.

"Letting me in." He placed a hand on her cheek, and stroked it gently with her thumb.

"I thought you'd freak, and run when I told you, like the very few others I've told." She said tearfully.

"I would never do that. I' not one for running."

She smiled at him.

And he kissed her again, gently, lovingly.

And subtly slipped off his wedding ring.

He was finally ready to move on.

**What do you think? Please review - this is my longest chapter ever! :-p**

**So pretty, pretty please do review!!!**

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